


Hazy Confessions

by poechild



Series: Prompts [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Hospital, Hurt Sherlock, Hurt/Comfort, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, hand holding, papa lestrade, pre slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 04:06:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8189021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poechild/pseuds/poechild
Summary: Sherlock falls in and out of consciousness after sustaining a gunshot wound to the abdomen. Through the bleariness, he overhears John and Greg at his bedside, and learns some information he wish he knew earlier.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [Johnlockems](http://johnlockems.tumblr.com) asked: JOHNLOCK + 12  
>  12\. things you said when you thought I was asleep
> 
> I actually really like this one but I wrote this all in one setting so maybe not ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Sherlock’s body feels leaden. He doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t register anything other than his desire to descend into oblivion.

He gently falls back asleep.

~/|\~

Sherlock tentatively straddles the line between wakefulness and a dreamless sleep for who knows how long. He cannot tell how much time has passed. But he does not care.

He vaguely registers a presence at his side. Something steady and solid. A stationary rock in an ever moving stream.

He senses no immediate danger, so he succumbs to his body’s need to rest once more.

~/|\~

Eventually, Sherlock wakes. He feels heavy and the simple thought of moving sends an immediate wave of repulsion through him.

So he does not move, not even trying to open his eyes.

Sherlock suddenly becomes aware of a steady beeping. Familiar.

Hospital.

The smell of antiseptic is overpowering now that he actively tries to search for it.

His abdomen is throbbing. Also familiar.

If he had any energy, he would run his hands across his stomach to find a swath of bandages, covering a new bullet wound to match the one on his chest.

Sherlock feels a hesitant pressure against his right hand, bringing his attention to his senses rather than his own thoughts.

“Do you know how many times I’ve almost lost him, Greg?” John’s voice. Wavering, breaking.

John’s hand, too. Encompassing his own. The rough callouses scratch against Sherlock’s skin.

Greg stays silent. John weaves his and Sherlock’s fingers together, slotting their digits with each other.

“You love him.” Greg says it as a fact. Like there has never been anything more true.

Sherlock hears John’s clothes rustle, turning towards Greg’s voice on the left side of Sherlock’s bed. John’s hold on Sherlock’s hand tightens.

There’s a pause, and Sherlock can only assume that John is jerking his head in a short nod. Greg lets out a breath.

“I don’t know what to do,” John whispers, and Sherlock can hear the start of tears in his voice.

The heart monitor’s beeps increase slightly, and Sherlock wills his heart to stop palpitating.

More rustling, and Sherlock knows both John and Greg are looking at him, searching for signs of wakefulness.

It is not difficult to keep his face a blank slate. The drugs they have him on are strong, preventing practically any movement.

John starts sweeping his thumb across Sherlock’s knuckles. The touch is electric, and Sherlock feels every point of contact.

“I love him. Too much for my own good.”

“You’ll have to tell him eventually.”

“He doesn’t…feel things like that.”

“Bullshit.”

“Greg…”

“He loves you, it’s plain as day. Your own love is blinding you.”

John makes a choking sound, and it does a funny thing to Sherlock’s chest. “I don’t know what to do,” he says again.

If Sherlock could move, he would’ve stilled at the touch of John’s other hand on his temple. The touch is soft and affectionate, as if afraid of breaking him. Sherlock’s curls are pushed away from his forehead. The gentleness sends goose pimples across Sherlock’s skin.

He can feel his body yearning for sleep. He has exhausted his energy by simply being awake.

“I can’t lose him again.”

“You won’t. The doctors said he’ll make a full recovery.”

A pause. The fingers stop their path across Sherlock’s skin.

“That’s not what I meant.”

But by then, Sherlock is falling back into darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> [Reblog](http://softlygasping.tumblr.com/post/150609543295/johnlock-12) on my [tumblr](http://softlygasping.tumblr.com)


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